by Kathryn Jordan
It was a holocaust play based on photos.
We saw the photos on the huge backdrop.
Bureaucrats, lawyers, doctors, secretaries. Continue reading
by Kathryn Jordan
It was a holocaust play based on photos.
We saw the photos on the huge backdrop.
Bureaucrats, lawyers, doctors, secretaries. Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Mark Brazaitis
It’s midnight at Camp Four. Our guide is leaving for the summit. The woman he impregnated—my wife—is too weak to go on. Her water broke thirty minutes ago. Our guide hoped she would be the first person to give birth at the peak of the world’s tallest mountain.
“You’re leaving us?” I shout at him as he heads off toward the Balcony. “You aren’t going to help with the birth?”
He turns to me. “I’m a guide, not a doctor.”
“You would’ve been happy to help if she was giving birth on the summit.” Continue reading
Filed under Fiction
by Joshua Zeitler
Puberty
and cars and trucks
obviously and trains
from time to time
he heard coming
but never saw
loving the rush
of air how he could Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Claire Scott
Look:
the three headed dog stands guard
snarling and snapping
serpent tail flashing
swollen tongues slobbering
toxic slime Continue reading
Filed under Poetry
by Anna Egeland
I
After Jeff Wall
Bullet-proof vests hunched over cardboard boxes.
Black latex fingers sifting through papers,
a permanent marker poised, ready to label
Filed under Poetry